I wrote this short one-shot for Bleach contest - prompt "alcohol".
I know I labelled this a ByaRen... but you gotta want it, to see it.
Enjoy!
"Another. Gin and tonic, sans twist. Tanqueray No. Ten."
The waiter nods and silently glides away.
Sharp, steely platinum eyes stare out toward the twinkling lights of Karakura town. On the top floor of the Grand Hotel, 58 floors above the noisy streets of the metropolis, it is almost silent and peaceful. The heir feels as though he can reach up and touch the sky; hell... he knows with a flick of his reiatsu, he could be out of this gigai and standing in the dark clouds floating above him this night. He can touch the sky.
His drink arrives in an ornate crystal tumbler. Clear, hard ice, almost invisible within the liquid substance it sits in; captures his ears as it tinkles against the lead glass… a light and cheerful sound that contrasts with his brooding mood.
He brings the cocktail up to his lips, thirstier than he's been in a while and takes a mouthful of this idyllic drink. It is highly aromatic, exceedingly dry, and has a crisp, fresh flavor. He relishes the captivating bouquet as it slams against his refined palate... he can discern the ripe, hand picked grapefruits, plump oranges, and tart limes swirling together in his mouth.
There are things in the living world that even he, can appreciate.
He knows he comes here to escape; knows his actions are somewhat ignoble, a selfish indulgence to his innumerable obligations. But in Soul Society, his responsibilities are to too many; and he cannot avoid the vibrant vermilion that invades his environment, that subtly yet somehow still overtly distracts his conscience from duty.
It is too pure there, the air is too clear; in turn displaying all colors too brightly.
Here on earth, at night, the hues are dulled, dark. The city lights on the streets below twinkle feebly; the lighting here on the deck itself is muted and soft. He sees the same palette of colors, but they do not engage him as they do in the Seireitei. The red here doesn't haunt.
He is the chosen one, the heir to his clan. He will lead them into the next era; but he must also lead them into the next generation.
He brings the glass to his lips once again; almost empty… again. Inhaling the effervescence of the tonic, anticipating the smooth nip of juniper berries on his tongue… wanting to taste something else there instead.
What he wants is what he cannot have. The feel of warmth from within, not from with out.
Tell me how it feels... I want to know.
He realizes he wants for too much, he must instead settle. It is the alcohol from the outside that will warm him through to the inside this night…. and he fears, for many nights to come.